Insane Commitment
by Jayneysuk
Summary: When it ends we look at how it started, we acknowledge what's left and we move on anyway we can. So the only place to start is at the end . . . Boyd and Grace split after after a brief but intense love affair. Can Boyd ever say the three words she needs?
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: K+**

**Spoilers: Nothing specific but up to the including series six to be safe**

**Summary: Can we just leave it**

**Disclaimers: The characters all belong to the BBC, and although I get to play I can take no credit for them**

**Feedback: Commitment**

**Part One - The Ending**

It was late and they were still there, which was not that unusual. The fact that they were the only two members of the team still working was. The main office was in darkness, Stella and Spencer having packed up and left hours before. The only illumination came from the desk lamp on Boyd's desk and it cast an eerie glow into the outer office.

Rather than heading home Boyd had chosen to work late. It wasn't so much that he had a lot to do, but more of an avoidance tactic. It hadn't worked.

Grace had appeared as she did most times, unannounced, and dropped onto his couch.

Boyd had continued to read through the notes on his desk, adding little to the conversation. When he did response his tone was less than inviting. He would never tell her to go but he really didn't want to hear her take on things. Eventually and predictably the conversation had progressed the way so many had of late to the point that they were arguing.

"Can we just leave it."

"That's exactly what we should do," she mumbled quietly. Grace rubbed her temples with her fingertips, finally accepting what her head had been telling her with days, looking up at him. "I can't do this anymore, Boyd."

Boyd stared at the wall above her head, avoiding making eye contact with her and seeing the sadness in her eyes, knowing what was coming before she even said it.

"All we do is fight. We can't seem to talk about anything anymore, and I miss that. As much as we've tried, we just can't cling to something that isn't there," Grace said, her voice laced with conviction. She had fully expected him to end it weeks ago but they had continued to work at it, neither wanting to put into words what they both felt. It didn't make it any easier that he had left her to do it.

"I'm not arguing with you," he said softly, leaning forward in his chair and placing his hands on his lap. The year old coffee stain on his carpet suddenly became fascinating.

"Which makes a nice change."

Normally he would have thrown back a retort, or baited her into arguing further with him. Sometimes it was because making up with her was fun, sometimes because it was how they communicated best. This time it seemed unnecessary. "It was actually predictable it would end this way," Boyd announced wistfully.

"And yet you did it anyway." Grace couldn't seem to help herself. She wanted to provoke a reaction in him, if only to know he was hurting as much as she was.

"Grace!" Her name came out wearily. The constant fighting had been going on for days and he had known the second they had taken the fight home that he had to end it. But it hadn't been so easy so he had chosen avoidance.

"What happens now?" she asked, knowing that it wasn't going to be easy going back to being just colleagues. It would be harder than going from friends to lovers. Of course there was always the possibility they couldn't salvage the friendship amidst the anger, and that was a prospect that saddened her.

Boyd looked up and for the first time since she had walked into his office he made eye contact. "You're not going to quit on me, are you?" The prospect actually frightened him. She had no reason to stay with the unit and if she left he wasn't entirely sure the unit would survive. He also didn't want her to leave his life completely. She had been a part of it for so long that he wasn't entirely sure he could survive without her in it.

She sighed, her hands nervously playing in her lap. In truth it wasn't the first time she had thought about leaving but this time she would be running away. "I don't know." She really didn't know what she would do after she left his office, other than she needed to leave soon.

"I want you to stay."

She smiled, bemused that a man who yelled endlessly and usually used a stream of words when one would suffice could convey so much with five little words. "I'll think about it." She pushed herself up off of the couch and moved towards the door. "Goodnight, Boyd. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Night, Grace." He swivelled in his chair to watch her walk along the corridor. She was leaving him, the only person who had ever really understand him was walking out the door. It had been hard to take at times that she could read him so well or that the emotional connection they shared affected the way he worked, and then to acknowledge that she could care for him despite the emotional baggage he came with. Which is why he suspected he had pushed her away. She had gotten to close and he had began to feel something that had been missing for a long time. He hadn't been ready and he certainly couldn't define it. So he had decided to test her. It just hadn't gone the way he expected. But it had been good there for a while.

He leaned back in his seat, running his fingers through his hair, no longer so eager to be in his office.

"Shit." Grace leaned against her car and began to cry, giving into her feminine side. She was too old for this but then until she had taken Boyd to bed that first time she had thought she was past many things. As it turned out she was older and wiser and it was so much better and he had managed to teach her a few things. She slammed her hand against the car, angry at him, and herself for making the one stupid mistake - you don't get involved with colleagues. They had both made the mistake before, and clearly neither had learnt anything from it.

Grace heard a noise behind her and not wanting to be seen, she unlocked the car and started the engine. Within seconds she was driving away, her cheeks damp with tears, her fingers poking the radio as she searched for anything that wasn't sad and depressing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: TBC**

**Spoilers: **

**Summary:**

**Disclaimers:**

**Feedback: Commitment**

**Part Two - A Little Drop Too Many**

Boyd flipped on the light as he entered his house, throwing his keys on the side table and kicking his shoes across the floor, oblivious to the little path of destruction he had left in his wake.

The bottle of scotch taunted him from the kitchen counter, daring him to drink it. As a rule he restricted himself to two glasses a night, anything more and he wouldn't be able to drive if he got a call out. More than four and he was likely to sleep like a baby.

Tonight he wasn't going to keep count.

Most of the time he liked living alone. He could come home from a long day, drop his clothes in a heap wherever he wanted and take long showers without someone complaining about him using all the hot water. The house could, and more often than not did, resemble the aftermath of a tornado. Occasionally he would spend a Sunday afternoon cleaning up, on occasion he would just go out and buy a few new shirts, always he promised himself he'd look into getting a cleaner. Six years on he still hadn't.

As much as Boyd liked company, he wasn't particularly a social person, more of a take away and footie kind of man. Alone, he could sit with a tray on his lap and not have to make polite conversation over dinner, or actually cook.

Of course all that had changed in recent months. Grace had taken him to Greek Tavernas, Italian bistros and even an Ethiopian café. They had sampled wine and eclectic food and talked more than he thought it was possible with one person. Three nights a week he had slept at Grace's, returning home in between for fresh clothes, long showers, and more often than not to watch the football without her constant taunting when his side lost. Somehow or another his shirts got washed and ironed and his socks ended up in little sock balls. It was strange, it was sweet and had opened his eyes to a whole other side of Grace.

Of course they both had needed their space, the combination of working together and sleeping together a little too much at times leaving them both a little frayed. It also meant the evenings they actually spent together were fun and relaxing, and a welcome diversion from the stressful cases they worked.

He would actually miss the home cooked meals and her falling asleep against him while they watched the news. She would snuggle up until he wrapped his arm around her and rested his chin on top of her hair. He would miss waking up next to her, and finding her wrapped up in a bundle of the layers of sheets and covers she insisted on having on the bed while he lay semi naked.

She had a slightly compulsive concern about her cleaning ritual which he had learnt to deal with by not being there. The thing he would miss most of all he decided was walking into the bathroom and catching her naked and vulnerable in the shower and the bashful expression she would give him.

Boyd rose to his feet, deciding that he would be better off keeping the bottle beside him if he was going to get maudlin.

Pouring himself another glass, he stretched out on the couch. She had managed to get under his skin in the short time they had been . . . Whatever they had been doing. Against his better judgement he'd let her in and it had ended.

What he wouldn't miss were the arguments, which seemed to have clouded the last two weeks. He hated to see the hurt that flashed across her face when he said something a little too close to the bone. The sad thing was that he could not seem to help himself. He couldn't, or wouldn't, he wasn't sure which, handle his feelings for her. Instead he had cemented the wall around him by provoking arguments and pushing her away, knowing that the more he pushed the more likely she would walk away all together.

An image of her face as she walked out of his office earlier that evening flashed through his mind and he drained another glass before picking up the bottle.

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Grace poured herself a glass of wine from the open bottle in her fridge. Taking a lengthy sip, she contemplated what to do next.

She was too old, and had been through too much bad break ups in her youth to sit and wallow. And she was a generation too far removed to go out and sleep with the first guy who flirted with her. Of course she also wasn't very good at telling when a guy was flirting and by recent experience she should avoid men for a while. They either turned out to be deranged torturers or didn't really understand her work, or it seemed were unable to commit. There was always the option of revenge but, and she had tried to ignore it, she loved him too much to try and hurt him. For everything they disagreed about there were five things they shared in common. A thought that scared her at times. She couldn't even blame him for the break up. They were equally to blame.

Slipping out of her shoes, she headed upstairs to run a bath. The idea of laying in a tub of scented bubbles, drinking a glass of wine seeming soothing and sensible, and she was sensible. Except maybe for getting involved with a man she knew had avoidance issues. Otherwise she might have hung on a little longer, tried to break down the walls he had built around himself, rather than just tunnel through when he allowed her.

Throwing her dirty clothes in the laundry basket she sat on the edge of the tub while the bubbles rose to the surface. Instantly her thoughts turned to him.

Boyd hated baths. It took too long to fill a tub and for a man with no patience it seemed a colossal waste of time when he could shower in the time it took for the water to flow. She hadn't planned to fall in love with him, dating him had been the last thing on her mind, and after six years of working together the idea that they would want to seemed insane. Nevertheless she had and she wouldn't regret the few months they had actually spent exploring each other.

Losing Mel the way they did and his complete refusal to deal with it had led him to her. Saving Spencer's life had re-evaluated what was important in his life and it was him who had decided that she was important. As she sank into the tub full of hot water she wondered where he would turn now that he had effectively edged her out of his life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: TBC**

**Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six to be safe**

**Summary: After the break up they reassess how they began and how they go on.**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them.**

**Feedback: I'm not sure how true to character this will be but I feel like having a little fun and letting the two of them lose their inhibitions. (Which means for those of you that asked, smut is definitely on the horizon.)**

**Insane Commitment**

**Part Three - The Beginning**

Looking back it had started like so many other relationships with dinner and wine. Peter Boyd hadn't intended for it to be something special. In fact more than anything he had needed a friend and like on so many other occasions it had been Grace he had turned to.

The preceding few weeks had been a little strange for everyone. There had been upheavals and a few scary moments, and the team was changed forever.

They had almost lost Spencer. While Peter had tried to stop his friend from bleeding out, he had pleaded with some higher authority for him to live, while begging Spencer to hold on. As the only person alive and conscious at the scene he had been forced to stay and explain what had happened. Angry and worried, and knowing that he could lose another one of his team, being interrogated at the warehouse had been perhaps the worst part of it all. Except that he knew Grace would be at the hospital and would phone the minute there was news. And she had, and so much more. They had sat for hours in the hospital corridor, holding hands and drinking luke warm coffee while they waited for news on the younger man. When Spencer had finally been moved to recovery they had gone out for breakfast and back to the office.

Spencer was on medical leave, still recovering from his gun shot wound and the betrayal of his friend. The office seemed strangely empty without him. Even Stella, who was doing the work of two people, practically clearing the backlog of paperwork single-handedly, couldn't fill the void. There was an atmosphere of awkwardness and tension that only time could change. As hard as she tried and despite the revelations about her father, Stella found herself with much to make up to Grace and to Boyd. More often than not she found herself working on her own as they huddled in one of their offices.

Felix had quit virtually over night. Not willing to put her self at risk, and not finding the team she had expected she had decided the Cold Case Unit wasn't for her. Her replacement was more to Boyd's taste. He liked to surround himself with feisty women who disagreed with him, and Eve certainly filled that criteria.

His trust shattered, his team fragmented, Boyd found he only had one person to turn to.

Eve needed or wanted to spend the night at her body farm. Her invitation for Boyd to join her was quickly rejected. However many years in the job he had no interest in spending the night surrounded by dead bodies. Not that he had that many offers of living bodies to keep him warm.

Stella had chosen to spend the weekend with Drake's family, trying to heal wounds that were impossible to heal.

With everyone else gone, it seemed natural for him to go to Grace.

"Do you want to grab dinner?" Body asked casually, watching her tapping at her keyboard.

"I can't. I have plans," she replied, staring at her screen and watching his reflection.

"Ok." He backtracked towards his office, sullenly.

She waited until his hand was on his door before she made a decision. "Boyd," she called after him, swivelling in her chair. "I'll cancel them." She gave him a small smile, enjoying the way he grinned back, hands thrust in his pocket as he tried to look nonchalant.

Half an hour later, they sat in the small Italian restaurant that he liked, surrounded by empty tables, the waiter hovering. "Something to drink?"

"Two glasses . . . Better make it a bottle . . . of merlot."

"Are you trying to get me drunk Superintendent Boyd?" she asked, toying with the empty glass.

He shook his head. "We both know, Dr Foley, that you can drink me under the table." It was sad but true.

They lapsed into the comfortable silence that was so unusual for them both. Time spent together generally meant talking at each other, arguing or just all out yelling. Tonight they were relaxed, the stresses of work set aside.

The waiter returned with the wine and began to fill Boyd's glass. He shook his head, offering it to Grace, knowing her pallet was more refined than his own.

She nodded her head, enjoying the sensation of the wine as it slipped down her throat.

"Are you ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?" the waiter asked.

Grace looked at Boyd, knowing that he would order his usual pasta dish. "I think we're ready."

Left alone and feeling playful, Grace leaned forward, her fingers stroking the stem of her glass. "So why don't you tell me something about yourself."

He looked a little taken back. "You agreed to go on a date because you wanted to shrink me?"

Grace let the 'date' comment pass for what it was - a slip of the tongue. "Shrink you? I just thought it might be nice if we told each other things."

"Share and care?"

She rolled her eyes, wondering why she bothered with him sometimes. The simple reason being that she cared about him.

"Well, there isn't much you don't know about me." She probably knew him better than anyone, even the numerous psychiatrists he had been to over the years, and definitely more than his wife ever had . "I married a woman I met in a deli, my little stalker thing there. We had a son called Joe." He fell silent, dropping his gaze. "I studied history at University before deciding to join the force."

It was typical of Boyd to sum his life up in a minute and to not give anything away. "You like to flirt with attractive women," she commented dryly, glancing around the room and avoiding his eyes.

"I like women, Grace," he stated emphatically. "I love women. I'm not gay," Boyd added, his voice rising with his protest.

"You seem to date a lot." In truth Grace knew he dated a lot. He never actually told her when there was someone knew on the horizon but just as she knew when he was lying she knew his tell.

"It's not really dating . . .It's more. . .," he failed to come on with a explanation for what he did. "But you're not my therapist and you're not my mother so I'm not getting into that with you."

A young waitress appeared, carrying their food and Grace watched bemused as his eyes followed her back to the kitchen, substantiating his statement that he liked women.

"This is good," he commented between mouthfuls of food. "More wine?" He tipped what was left of the first bottle into her glass and indicated as only he could that they wanted more.

"Have you ever considered doing something else?" she asked stabbing at a piece of penne with her fork.

"Besides being a police officer?"

"Yes."

"Sure, doesn't everyone. There have been incidents where I considered doing lobotomies, reconstructive surgery, a little grave digging."

"Boyd!"

"Oh, you meant another profession. No." However bad his days got, however awful a case, he knew that being in the police was all he wanted to do, and it ran deeper than losing his son.

They lapsed back into silence, the mixture of alcohol and good food steering them both into a state of calm.

She knew when he leant back in his seat, his wine close to his lips, his lips quirking up into a grin that he was on his way to getting drunk.

"You have beautiful eyes, Grace. They shine, become even bluer when you're worked up."

"Are you flirting with me?" Grace asked, her tone light, fully expecting to see him recoil in horror.

"Is it getting you worked up?" Boyd leaned forward and gazed deep into her eyes, smiling mischievously. "Yeah, I'm flirting." He waited a beat. "And if you want to join in we can blame it on the alcohol."

She raised an eyebrow in question.

"Sometimes it would just be nice if we could forget we work together and go back twelve years." He glanced away and then returned to gazing into her eyes like she was the only woman in the world.

It was a rare occurrence and when he did it she forgot she was a grown woman with children and they had been friends for years, and not the young woman she once was.

"I was married, Boyd. You were dating, sorry whatever you want to call it, Jess." They had never really discussed how they met, or when they became friends. It was more of an assumption on his part that she would be part of his life and she had gone along with it.

"Ok, pretend we don't work together . . . And get drunk." Sometimes she was just too serious, sometimes she needed to take a risk. Sometimes he just wanted to see if they had been fooling themselves for years.

"You realise you're already drunk and talking complete . . ." Grace said, draining her glass of wine and refilling both their glasses.

"I love your smile."

"And there we go." She glanced down at the table and realised he was holding her hand. "Boyd!"

"You're a beautiful woman, Grace. I don't think I have ever told you that before."

She had to keep telling herself he was drunk because otherwise she was going to melt into a little puddle. He was gazing at her so intently, his eyes wide, small crinkles appearing where he was smiling. His fingers were lightly caressing her knuckles as he continued to ramble.

"Smart, beautiful, funny." Boyd tilted his head and studied her face.

"Is your back playing up again?"

"Huh?" he asked, confusion evident on his face.

Grace tried to extract her hand but he held onto it tightly. "Did you take your painkillers before you came out?"

"Yeah?"

She rolled her eyes, knowing that the combination of his pills and the red wine were destroying his inhibitions. She was reluctant to stop him, not sure he would ever be this way again, but knowing she should. "Come on, I'll call a taxi and you can stay in my spare room."

"Ok."

Grace waved to the waiter. "Can we have the bill please?"

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	4. Chapter 4

The next chapter will probably be a slightly higher rating but for now enjoy!!!!

**Insane Commitment**

**Part Four - A Strong Mug of Tea and A Kiss**

Grace padded out onto the hallway, trying and failing to smooth down her bed head. She had slept well, which considering what she did for a living was unusual in itself. Mornings however seemed to come too soon and without at least one strong mug of tea in her system she was unable to function.

The house seemed quiet, a situation she had become accustomed to since the kids had finally flown the nest. This morning though she had a guest, one who normally could be heard from a hundred yards away so she concluded he was still asleep, giving her time to get dressed and tidy the house a little.

Quietly, she crept downstairs, stepping over the squeaky tread and coming to a halt as he appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking casual with his shirt un-tucked and a mug of steaming tea in his hand. It irked her that he could look that good, and so comfortable in her space.

"Hi." She gave him a smile.

"Hi. I was just bringing this to you." He stared at her, not in the least bit embarrassed to be wandering her house, his eyes discreetly roaming her over sized pyjamas.

"Boyd!" she warned gently, waiting until his eyes returned to her face. "In bed?" Grace asked, her tone light and teasing.

"If it works for you." The idea of taking her to bed wasn't an unfamiliar one just a crazy one. He handed over the mug, watching her take a sip before he leaned in and kissed her briefly on the lips.

"Boyd?" she gasped, as she struggled to keep hold of the mug and find her voice. "What was that for?" Silently she wondered if she could get him to do it again.

He gave her a look that clearly wondered if she was stupid or that far out of practice. "Grace?"

"Boyd?"

He frowned slightly. "You didn't like it?" He pursed his lips and smiled. "I overstepped the mark?" he asked, not the least bit phased by her confusion.

"Why? What?" Grace stammered.

"I thought, . . . No, I'm pretty sure I did the whole you're beautiful thing last night." He pretended to search his memory as her cheeks tinged pink with recollection.

"You did. Several times." Her thoughts drifted to his hand holding hers in the taxi as her eyes darted to his fingers holding the mug.

"Ah."

"Yes." She waited for him to pull away, to dismiss it as a joke. It was one of those moments where she really ought to take charge, put a little distance between them, be the voice of sanity but she'd wanted to kiss him since they first met.

"You're beautiful, Grace." He leaned in again and kissed her more forcefully, his hand gently holding the mug with hers.

"You did it again," Grace said when he pulled away, her eyes wide and bright, her face taking on a deep red hue. She was thankful he had no idea the effect that he was having on her stomach, the way the butterflies were taking away all logic.

"Yes. Look, I'm not good at this. I just thought we should skip the preliminaries and just try it."

"Date?" She was a Doctor of forensic psychology and in her fifties and yet she was finding it hard to string a coherent sentence together. The hint of promise in the kiss wasn't helping matters.

"Yeah." Boyd ran his free hand through his hair. He did want to date her but the idea of skipping all the preliminaries and heading back upstairs wasn't all that unappealing.

"And if I don't want to?" It was more a stalling tactic than a real question because she wasn't sure how to stop him or if she wanted to.

"I find it much easier to get what I want if I don't give people the chance to say no." Boyd grinned, gently removing the mug from her hand and placing it on the desk before turning to face her. "So I'm going to kiss you again. I guess if you pull away then it's a no, and if you kiss me back then I'm not as out of practice as I thought." Without waiting for her reaction he moved forward and gently caressed her cheek. His hand found itself tangled in her hair as he tugged her towards him, his eyes gazing deep into her, noting with satisfaction that they had developed into a deep sapphire. His lips lightly caressed hers, teasing her until he felt her respond.

Grace quietly moaned and slapped him playfully as he grinned against her lips. Boyd, she discovered as he deepened the kiss, was gentle, thoughtful and not in the least bit pushy. It made her want to thrown caution to the wind, it made her want to be twelve years younger, and she lost the ability to say no.

As the kiss developed into something more intense and he felt her fingers slip up under his shirt to stroke his back, Boyd was convinced it was the right time. She had always been the one woman he couldn't sleep with and abandon, and the person he cared enough about not to hurt. With her he would have to commit and learn to give more of himself. As he backed her against the wall and brushed his hand along the underside of her breast, as if by accident, he willed himself to make it work.


	5. Chapter 5

-1**This is the last chapter for a while as I'm off on vacation. There is a week of sun, sea and prolific writing ahead of me. This is a little smutty, but not quite down and dirty, so I hope you enjoy. **

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: M**

**Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six to be safe**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them.**

**Insane Commitment**

**Part Five - The yoga pays off**

Grace gathered her belongings, humming to herself as she packed up her office for the night. It had been two weeks since Boyd had kissed her, a little over a week since she'd invited him into her bed for the first time, and she was beginning to relax just a little. They were professional in the office, engaging in the same flirting, teasing and arguments they always had, tactile and slightly silly (for two people their age) alone. Last night he had gone home, citing a need for a change in clothes. She suspected it had more to do with the big game but she had used the time to good measure, catching up on her housework. Tonight she planned to cook him dinner and let him seduce her.

She flipped off the light switch. "Night." Tucking her bag over her arm, she headed out of the door.

Boyd didn't even turn, barely acknowledged that she was leaving the room, merely smiled to himself. "Goodnight, Grace."

"She's leaving early," Stella commented dryly, opening the top folder in the pile of twenty Boyd was insisting she re-examine.

"Yeah?"

"Maybe she's got a date," Eve grinned. "God knows it's about time one of us got a little action."

Boyd rolled his eyes. "I obviously don't need to be here for this," he muttered, backtracking towards his office. If he left now he could swing by the off licence and be at hers in half an hour, maybe even pick up some flowers on the way, make a little effort, earn some reward points.

"Actually, Boyd," Eve began, and his heart sunk, knowing that he wasn't going to be leaving anytime soon.

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Boyd rang the door bell and rocked back and forth, glancing up and down the street by habit.

"What took you so long?" she asked, opening the door for him, drying her hands in a dish cloth.

"Eve had a thing."

"Ah." Grace had taken to Eve the minute they had met. They were both professional yet both had a wacky sense of humour and having them both together in the same room freaked Boyd out. The woman was just a little too obsessive about her dead bodies. "Hungry?"

"You cooked?" he asked, surprised that she would take the time.

"Yes, Boyd. I cooked." She folded her arms across her body and attempted to stare him down.

He held both hands up in surrender and grinned. "I bought one of each."

"You're learning." She closed the door behind him and waited.

He looked down at her.

She looked up at him.

And he kissed her, gently, softly, briefly on the lips.

"So, you pour the wine. I'll dish up," she said, flustered by the intimacy. It wasn't easy getting used to his touch, to the way a kiss seemed to send shock waves through her body, the way he made her feel twenty again.

"Can it be reheated?" he asked, the twinkle in his eye leaving her in no doubt what was on his mind.

Grace rolled her eyes. "We are not having a make out session."

"What? Never?" he feigned devastation.

"Not until you have at least eat something. And if you're staying you can lock the door." Grace made her way back into the kitchen, a small smile tugging at her lips, at the petulant way he stared after her.

"Am I on a promise?" he called after her, dead bolting the door and making his way down the hallway.

Sometimes she wondered why he wasn't married to someone half his age. Most times she wondered why he would want to be with her when he spent so much of his time flirting with beautiful women. Then she remembered that he was useless at reading women, that to really care about him you had to know him and understand him. There hadn't been that many women who had got to the point of knowing him, gotten past his idiosyncrasies.

His new girlfriend, which was a word that sounded better in his head than out loud, could cook, which shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. His lover, another phrase that sounded slightly stupid out loud, also didn't make him feel like she was comparing him to the others. His Grace, and she'd kill him if he called her that, moreover wasn't one of those women who needed praise all the time. Of course she liked to nag and the fact she could quite possibly read his mind on occasions led him to believe it wouldn't always be so harmonious.

Grace had tried to keep dinner low key. The table was set for two but despite the best china making a rare appearance out of the dresser, there were no flourishes or candles. She had settled on a simple casserole, knowing that he was a meat and vegetable man.

Boyd had eaten because she told him to, well that and the fact she kept adding to his plate. They had shared a bottle of wine and talked, random snippets of conversation that delved into nothing and revealed little other than he felt comfortable with her. It was a new experience for him.

Trying to be the perfect boyfriend, he was in the process of doing the dishes while she leaned back in her chair, watching him as she finished off her glass of wine.

"If Spencer could see you now."

"He'd wonder why I'm barefoot in your kitchen."

"I think he'd have other questions."

"Make sure you tell him I didn't jump you on the first date," Boyd teased, throwing a handful of bubbles in her direction.

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"I'm going to bed," Grace announced, rising to her feet and crossing the carpeted floor.

Boyd turned from the television. "Ok."

She cleared her throat. "Are you coming?"

There was something about the cadence of her voice that told him it wasn't optional. There was also a hint of something sultry and sexy in her eyes.

He followed her up the stairs, one step behind her, his hand lightly resting on her hip. Later he would come back down alone, waiting until she was asleep before he checked that the house was secure. He couldn't help himself.

Grace paused at the top of the stairs, waiting for him to take her hand as he did most nights, almost unsure of what she wanted. Something seemed to change between them the second they stepped inside the bedroom. He became his usual self-assured, controlling self and she reverted back into someone who felt old and self conscious. However much he told her she was beautiful, she still couldn't get beyond how she felt or how she thought others saw her.

Boyd stepped over the threshold first, slipping his jacket off his shoulders as he pulled her in with him.

"Lights on or off?" he asked quietly.

"On while you find the bed," she replied, running her fingers over the wall in search of the switch. "Then off."

He hadn't expected anything different, knowing she still wasn't confident enough to let him see her naked. Quickly, he brushed her lips with his own before discarding his jacket and kicking off his shoes. He landed unceremoniously on the bed.

Grace turned off the light and crossed the darkened room, slipping out of her shoes before she sat down on the bed.

Their routine lacked the ripping-clothes-off passion of youth. Instead they undressed in the darkness, self consciousness making them reluctant to reveal their flaws, her clothes neatly piled on her floor, his tossed across the room. It also saved time and he wasn't the most patient of men.

Naked, Grace rolled over and reached for him, her fingers gently brushing against the fine sprinkling of salt and pepper hair on his bare chest.

"Tired?"

"Not especially," she whispered, resting her head on his chest..

Boyd smiled, reaching for her in the darkness, his hand gently cupping her face, tilting it towards him and stroking her cheek. The first kiss was soft and tender, the second was harder, distracting her from her internal fears, deepening until she was almost breathless.

Grace sighed and Boyd felt her body tense beside him. Tentatively, he reached for her hand and entwined his fingers with hers, lifting her hand to his lips until he could kiss her fingertips. His left hand continued to stroke her cheek, listening to her breathe. It was the closest he had gotten to anyone in years, it brought an intimacy that neither of them were used to and he didn't want it to end. The feeling surprised him every time.

"It's your turn to make the coffee in the morning."

"Huh? I always make the coffee," she corrected, her nails playfully scratching his chest.

Smiling, he captured her lips.

In her life she'd had sex for pleasure, to get pregnant and more often than not to keep a man happy. With Boyd it lacked the passion and freedom of her youth but it contained a connection she had only ever felt with her husband. Sometimes she wished he would just make love to her and not worry so much about putting her at ease. There was after all only so much tenderness a woman needed.

"Boyd?"

"Yeah?"

Playfully she allowed her hand to slip lower, drawing lazy circles over his stomach, toying with the waistband of his shorts. Just as suddenly as she began she stopped, pulling her hand away.

"You coyness is quite sexy."

She felt herself blush and tried to look anywhere but at him.

Peter kissed her forehead, her nose then briefly hovered over her lips. He could kiss her all night, hold her against him as he worried about everything but then he'd miss out on sex, and sex with his best friend was something he had denied himself for years.

Shifting position, he began his silent exploration of her body, his lips grazing her skin, her body reacting to the dual sensations of his beard tickling and his fingertips lightly caressing her hip. Peter stopped momentarily to gaze up at her.

She smiled back at him, knowing that despite his best intentions foreplay couldn't last much longer. His domineering and passionate side would eventually win out and he would want to be inside her.

Grace arched her body towards him, running her fingers through his hair. He needed reassurance as much as she did, each gesture a way of making a connection.

Peter returned to kissing the soft skin of her stomach, his fingers tracing the curve of her outer thigh.

Grace smiled to herself as she felt his fingers shift direction, caressing her inner thigh, mapping her sensitive spots, intent on pleasuring her. She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath as he reached a point that had her gripping the bed sheet. He was, she had to admit, as thorough in his foreplay as he was in his work.

"Peter!"

His name on her lips told him everything he needed to know and he began to move back up her body, reigning kisses as he went.

"I knew you'd be trouble," she muttered, trying and failing to prevent the reaction he was invoking with his thumb and fingertips.

"I can stop," he commented dryly, the grin telling her he had no intention of stopping. With the ease of one that had had some experience he discarded his shorts with one hand and began to inch his way inside her.

He was driving her insane and not in any good way. There was a time for teasing, and a time to be considerate. When she was already at the point of distraction all she wanted was for him to remove all coherent thought.

She shook her head, reaching up to kiss him deeply on the mouth, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair, pulling him down to her, in the hope he would get the message.

Boyd lifted his body, resting all his weight on his elbows as he began to move faster inside her.

Her concentration blurred as he became intent on bringing them closer to release. Her fingers grabbed at his back, needing to hold on to him, her absolute trust in him releasing her body to him.

The cramp in his leg was getting worse, the longer he tried to maintain his position the more likely it would be that he'd end up screaming or swearing, neither of which would do much for the mood. "Grace?"

"It's ok."

Peter shifted position, deepening his thrusts, control and rhythm no longer foremost on his mind as he felt the heat searing through his body. Silently, he promised to make it up to her as he felt the wave come over him. He would hold her and kiss her, and make the coffee in the morning, if only. . . His train of thought dissipated as his eyes fluttered shut and he grabbed the sheet.

It always ended this way, him collapsing on her chest, his breathing laboured, his head tilted to watch her as she lay, smiling, until he could regain his equilibrium. They rarely spoke. Eventually she would fall asleep, deeply and restfully and he would wander the house, the policeman in him unable to sleep until he was sure everything was safe. Then he would sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry it's been a while but with a vacation and a toddler who seems to have hit the terrible twos a little early my muse has taken a walk. **

**Insane Commitment**

**Part Six - The Honeymoon of Sorts**

Six weeks of dating or whatever the latest term was, and so far their relationship had managed to avoid all the usual pitfalls.

Moreover it seemed to be bringing out the best in Peter Boyd. He had taken to smiling regularly, oftentimes humming to himself, and changing his shirt every day rather than claiming he had two of the same colour.

If anyone else on the team had noticed that they were arriving together most mornings, they hadn't commented. Of course he was male and inherently oblivious so it was unlikely he would have picked up on the looks that Eve and Stella shared or the blatant innuendo that Spencer dropped into conversations.

Boyd was being careful, not yet willing to put his relationship out in the open for public scrutiny, or in his own mind analysing it too far. As soon as they arrived at the office and climbed out of the car, he would stride ahead of her, his mind clearly focused on business, barking orders as he disappeared inside his office, the door swinging shut behind him.

Grace followed him in, deliberately allowing him to walk ahead, still uncertain of the rules. Her morning ritual involved grabbing a fresh cup of tea and greeting the team and sharing snippets of gossip in the bullpen before making her way into her office.

By the time Boyd finally emerged from his office, any indication Grace was anything more than a colleague had disappeared amid evidence and psychological profiles.

There was one major, unexpected problem that Boyd hadn't anticipated when he'd asked Grace out on a date. He couldn't help himself. Any opportunity he got he would find himself in her office, watching her and engaging in banter. Of course he was running out of excuses to see her -there were only so many psychological questions he could ask, only so many discussions that didn't involve the team and only so many cups of coffee they could drink in a day. It didn't stop him casually dropping by her office at least three times a day.

Boyd poured two cups of coffee and walked into Grace's office. Kicking the door closed behind him, he crossed the room and placed one mug on the coaster on the coffee table.

She looked up and smiled. "Thanks."

"So?" he asked, settling himself on the couch.

Grace removed her glasses and moved around the desk, sitting down beside him. "What?"

"Whatya doing?"

"Bored, Boyd?"

He smiled and allowed his hand to slip over hers.

"Boyd!"

"I can't help myself."

"Well . . . Try." She extracted her hand. "Haven't you got six months worth of reports to file?"

"Six years. Dinner, tonight?"

She rolled her eyes in despair. He was like a young child at times, each new experience exciting. She loved how deeply he had thrown himself into being with her but she was wary, dubious about how quickly he would become bored. "Are you going to cook?"

"No, but we can grab something and take it to your place."

They always ended up at her house, in her bed. Not that she minded, it meant she always had clean clothes and her kids could get hold of her. The more he stayed though, the more of his stuff seemed to appear and the harder she knew it would be if he did get bored. "I don't want a late night."

"Ok." He raised his eyebrows and grinned mischievously.

"No!" She positioned herself on the other side of her desk. "You have work to do."

"I could bring it in here."

"No. Boyd, go find something to occupy yourself." She sighed deeply, knowing that if he stayed neither of them would get anything done, and the more likely it would be that the one thing he didn't want to happen would.

He grinned back at her.

"Go. Work. Annoy Stella. Make Spencer's life hell." She waved her hand in the direction of the bullpen.

"That's not nice."

"Yeah, but if you're bugging him, you're not bugging me."

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Ok."

Grace watched him go, knowing without a shadow of a doubt, he'd be back in an hour, clutching a folder and asking something inane. Something snagged at the back of her mind, a nagging doubt that it was all too good to be true and however hard she tried to ignore it, it wouldn't go away.

---------------------------------------------

Although unwilling to get involved, or acknowledge the changing nature of the Grace Boyd dynamic, the team were grateful that it was bringing out a new side to their boss.

Whether he took her straight home or out for dinner Boyd always left with Grace. Working the team long into the night had become more of a rarity than a compulsion in the last couple of months. Most nights the team would be in the pub for seven, Boyd's four am inspired calls a thing of the past.

The second he closed the passenger side door and walked around to the driver's side, Boyd reverted back to happy, teasing, slightly silly Boyd. He knew deep down it was too much but he was trying to work through his emotional baggage, to actual give her the love she deserved.

"You ready?" Boyd asked, sticking his head through the doorway, at six o'clock.

"Give me five minutes." She barely glanced up from her computer monitor.

"I might go and check in with Eve." He hovered in the doorway.

"In that case, I'll see you in ten minutes." Grace offered him a small smile.

He feigned hurt.

"The sooner you leave, the sooner . . ."

Boyd grinned back. "I'm going."

-------------------------------------------------

Boyd pulled up outside her house, turning off the engine and unlocking his seat belt.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?" she asked, turning to face him, her mind shifting to the pile of ironing in the laundry basket and the cobweb she had spotted in the bathroom.

He shook his head. "I have a few things to do." Friday nights they usually reserved for dinner and a quiet night but this Saturday morning there was a Rugby game on and he wanted to stretch out on the sofa and watch.

"Ok." She placed her hand on the door handle and leaned towards him. "See you tomorrow."

"I'll call tomorrow lunchtime and we can decide where to eat."

"Or I can cook."

The kiss was chaste, their lips barely clashing, neither wanting to be left wanting more.

"Drive carefully," she whispered, her eyes revealing more than her words would.

"It's London, Grace, road rage is practically a sport."

"Goodnight, Boyd."

"Night." He waited until she was safely inside, lights coming on all over the house, before he drove off.

Grace rolled over, taking the covers with her. It was Sunday and she was comfortable in her bed, the day well started beyond the curtains.

Boyd tugged playfully at the sheet.

"Go away."

"That's not very nice."

"Nice would be a hot steaming cup of tea," she mumbled, plumping the pillow up around her head.

"Fantastic would be . . ." he began as his hand slipped beneath the sheet and began to caress her thigh.

"Peter."

"How about there. . .?"

"Yeah." Grace rolled over and threw back the covers. There was little chance she would get to doze anytime soon, not that she was beginning to mind as his fingers worked their way over her hip. There was something about Sundays she was starting to really love.


	7. Chapter 7

**Firstly thank you for all the kind comments so far. I do appreciate them. Apologies for it taking so long but my muse keeps taking a walk. Most of the next few chapters are planned out I just need to be awake enough to beta them. It's going to be a while before it's finished, not least because I keep changing my mind about the ending. **

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: PG**

**Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six to be safe**

**Summary: After the break up they reassess how they began and how they go on.**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them.**

**Feedback: Seven - All Business**

There were moments when Boyd felt like he was floating above himself watching his life play out. There were days recently when he wished he could stop himself, instead he found himself observing the end of his relationship. He could even pinpoint the end, the very second it happened, and yet he couldn't stop the words that hurt her.

It had begun ten days before. They were in the midst of a multiple rape case, standing in the lab listening as Eve went through the evidence. Grace being Grace, and the woman he cared about, couldn't seem to get past the victims and he had said something off hand and her eyes had bore into him. A passing comment from Spencer and all of a sudden they were in a full blown discussion about intimacy and sex. In his office minutes later he had had a moment of clarity. She had been right, her profile had been spot on, and not just the suspects. Three days later and a new case unfolding before them, they found something new to argue about, something else to keep them in the office and not out enjoying dinner.

They had finally escaped from the office after another twelve hour day and despite feeling drained to the point of exhaustion Boyd had decided to take her out for dinner. The conversation was stilted, neither really feeling up to small talk, work and the constant tension making it hard for either to really relax, the randomness not at all uncommon for them. Every so often Boyd would tune out then she would say something forcing him to tune back in.

"Do you wonder why we bother when we never get anywhere?" As much as she loved her job, there were days when it became to much and she thought about moving on.

The melancholy of her voice and pointed ness of her comment had him on the defensive. "That's a little. . ."

"Is it?" she cut him off.

"Just because you don't know the outcome doesn't mean. . .," he stammered, running his fingers through his hair as he contemplated where the conversation could go.

Grace smiled weakly, reading him right. "You may find this hard to believe, Boyd, but I'm not asking for a lifetime commitment." She was asking for something a lot more overwhelming.

"What are you asking for?" He lifted the wine glass to his lips and took a lengthy sip.

Grace stared about at him, not sure when the atmosphere had become so charged.

"Grace!!"

"I don't remember asking for anything, Boyd."

They had always talked in the here and now, never planning, never looking towards what the future might hold. His feelings for her had evolved, the line between friends and lovers a simple step in reality, the ultimate step so much harder. He swallowed hard, refusing to meet her eyes.

"What are we doing?"

Panic had set in one Sunday morning when she had turned and nestled against him and he'd felt the urge to say the three little words. He had tried to put distance between them ever since. After all admitting that his feelings scared him was too easy an option, and ending it was something he wasn't very good at. Picking a fight on the other hand was just his thing, and if the last few weeks were evidence enough it was Grace's too.

"Having dinner."

She let out a deep breath.

"You mean . . .," He waved his hands between them. " . .. us."

Grace remained silent.

"Talk to me, Grace."

"It's been six months. We work together, we sleep together, we eat together. I thought . . .," she trailed off, her eyes scanning the restaurant, hoping he would be able to acknowledge them.

"You're analysing again."

"Forget it, Boyd. I'm just tired." She refused to look at him, exhaustion and weariness bringing her feelings too close to the surface, revealing her need for him.

Boyd waved to the waiter and they sat in silence as he paid the bill and they walked outside.

Grace hovered on the pavement, wrapping her ankle length cardigan around her as the wind whipped up. "I think I'll just take a cab."

"Grace." He didn't know how to fix it, but he needed to try.

"I'm ok, Boyd. We both need to sleep."

"You know how I feel about you." In truth he hoped she didn't know he felt because he worked so hard at hiding it but he wanted more than anything for them not to fight in that second.

She grimaced, a feeling of deju vue bringing unusual clarity. He'd said that once before when he'd openly flirted in front of her. And it wasn't enough because she really had no clue whether he loved her or not. "Go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

Boyd watched sadly as she hailed a cab and climbed inside, never once looking back, his cheek missing her good night kiss. Sleep he knew was going to be in short supply and he was going to be hung over in the morning, that much he was sure of but it stopped him having to think, to acknowledge that he could never give her what she wanted.

----------------------------------------------

"Morning, Boss," Spence called from his position by the coffee maker, watching with satisfaction as the murky liquid dripped into the pot. "I've finally got it to work. Coffee?"

"Black," he grumbled, wishing he'd stayed away from the cheap scotch.

"Hangover?"

"A doozy of one."

Spence grinned as he handed over a mug of steaming French coffee. "Should I ask if she was worth it?"

Boyd glared back at him. "Probably not the conversation we should be having."

"Ok, so based on Eve's findings we've tracked down the previous owners of the coffee shop."

"Any of them missing?"

"Stella's been in Grace's office trying to get up to date contact information." He glanced towards the office where the two women had been engrossed all morning.

"She couldn't do that. . . You know what, I don't care. Just let me know when you have something." He walked towards his office, stifling the urge to check in on Grace. "Apparently I have some crime stats I'm supposed to have submitted." He closed the door firmly behind him.

Grace watched the door close to his office before she rose to her feet. "I need to check on something in the lab."

"Ok." Stella waved her off, the phone still to her ear. "I'm still here."

Grace couldn't face him. She felt sick to her stomach, which was stupid for a woman her age, but it was too late to take it back. She had tried in a roundabout manner to get him to admit his feelings and he couldn't and probably wouldn't admit them. And she couldn't carry on in half a relationship. It was a stalemate.

"Coffee, Grace?" Stella asked, waving the fresh pot at her, as she headed back to the squad room, only half listening to what Eve had to say.

"Yeah."

"I raided the vending machine. Cheese. Egg. Tuna sandwiches." Spencer threw the crude selection on the table.

Boyd walked out of his office, taking a mug from Stella's hand. "Anything on the previous owners?"

Stella watched her mug move across the room with some dissatisfaction. "Still waiting on a call back." She poured herself another mug and took her usual chair. "It changed hands pretty often."

"Grace?" Boyd asked, his tone unusually soft, his eyes trying to read her.

She walked in front of the board. "She was posed, hands together, ready for burial. It strikes of care and attention."

"After she was stabbed fifteen times, " Boyd snorted,. So much for being more touchy feely he cringed.

She ignored him. "It's personal. The killer knew the victim hence the passion behind it. Maybe they were lovers. There's a fine line between love and hate."

Boyd rolled his eyes. "That's a little philosophical even for you."

"You're disregarding . . ."

"No, I'm looking for a profile not some. . ." He waved his hands trying to find the word he was looking for.

Eve and Stella exchanged worried glances, not liking the undercurrent that seemed to be slipping into the room.

Grace wanted to stamp her feet and scream at him when he was like this.

"Ok, it was definitely an emotion led killing." She paused in front of the picture of the young woman. "The number of stab wounds, the clustering of the wound pattern."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"So it's not possible it was random?" Stella interjected, watching the confrontation like a tennis match.

"No," they replied in unison.

Stella glanced at Spencer for help.

"Was it a rational killing?" he asked, throwing his palms upwards.

"Rational?" Boyd grunted.

Grace took a deep breath. "I don't think the perpetrator was conscious when he did it."

"No, just liked a little over kill."

"Honestly, I think it was a row that got out of hand, to the point that he lost control."

"That's what you're giving me? They rowed and because she didn't listen he went into melt down?"

"If you're trying to make a statement you don't hold back. You for one, should be aware of that."

"Really?"

"Really!"

He picked up his mug and took a sip, not sure exactly why they were yelling at each other.

The ringing of the phone broke into the sudden silence of the room and he grabbed up the receiver.

Grace sank into a chair. All the previous night she had slept restlessly, her thoughts turning to him, unable to comprehend the decision she had made. The finality of it all had led her to question why. Of course she loved him, was in love with him. But he clearly didn't know how he felt. And she'd reached a point where a man saying he loved her was important. That was the point around dawn she had decided it was over. The last half hour had only served to confirm she had made the right decision. All she had to do now was tell him.


	8. Chapter 8

**It's been a tough few weeks with far too much going on, but I'm starting to regain my muse, especially with the repeats of season six on UK Drama.**

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: PG**

**Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six to be safe**

**Summary: After the break up they reassess how they began and how they go on.**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them.**

**Feedback: Eight - Where Do We Go from Here?**

After a long sleepless night, Grace arrived at the office hoping for a distraction, and fully expecting to walk into a hive of activity, instead she found Spencer alone at his desk.

"Morning, Spence," she said, approaching the bullpen and forcing a smile.

"Hey, Doc." He glanced up briefly. "You look tired."

She ran her free hand through her hair. "Way to make a woman feel good about herself."

He grimaced. "Sorry. Everything ok?"

"Things have been better," she admitted, candidly, refusing to turn and see if the object of her distress was in.

"Must be catching. He's like a bear with a sore head today," Spence commented dryly, indicating his head towards his boss' door. "That's two days in a row."

"Yeah, well, experience tells me we've a few more days of it yet," She retorted with grimace before turning and moving back towards her office. It was twelve hours since she had sat in Boyd's office and told him it was over and although she knew it was the right thing to do, she was still in forty kinds of pain. The chances were being in his presence for the next few days wasn't going to make things any better. She didn't know what was going to be worse - him angry and taking it out on everyone around him, or him trying to pretend he wasn't affected by any of it.

Grace closed her office door, blocking out the early morning chatter as Eve and Stella arrived clutching polystyrene mugs of coffee. She turned on the kettle and dropped a tea bag into a mug. As much as she could probably do with a caffeine fix, a herbal tea was going to be better in the long run. Unable to sleep she had spent most of the night sitting up in bed, going over the case notes and refining the suspect's profile. Her mind had not been on it and finally, angry at Boyd and frustrated with herself for allowing him to get her so churned up, she had wandered the house gathering up Boyd's belongings and putting them in the spare room. Unfortunately as she folded up his sweatshirts and gathered his books her thoughts were centred on him.

"Grace," came an all too familiar shout.

Sighing, she slipped her purse off her shoulder and tossed it onto the couch.

"Grace!"

Grace counted to ten. It didn't work as he bellowed her name for the third time. She was far too professional to tell him to shove it up his arse although the urge was fast becoming a compulsion. And as much as she wanted to go out there and tell him a few home truths it just wasn't her style. Instead she would suffer, let his reign of terror run it's course and then try more rational argument. Her patience thankfully was greater than his.

She opened the door with such force it swung back and hit the wall. "For God's sake, Boyd, give it a rest."

He looked terrible, possibly even worse than she felt, and she took some satisfaction in that.

"Well hurry up." His eyes failed to meet hers as she crossed the room and dropped into a chair.

"Stella?" he barked and the young woman jumped to her feet. "I'm not sure this is going to be what you want to hear."

"Must be the week for it," he muttered, taking a seat as far from Grace as he could find. "Get on with it."

Grace rolled her eyes and gave Stella a reassuring smile. It was, she predicted, going to be even harder on everyone than she had imagined.

-------------------------------------------------------

Grace picked up a pile of files and dropped them back on the desk. Glancing around the room, she came to a decision. It had been a long day, although it probably seemed even longer due to the shouting, door slamming and her unwillingness to venture much beyond her office door. The others, accustomed to the atmosphere when a case was not going Boyd's way, had seemed to shrug it off. Grace, suffering from a lack of sleep really couldn't take it anymore and the idea of spending another hour in the office trying to read papers and stare at her computer screen was less than appealing. The idea of a hot bath and an early night convinced her to call it a day.

Gathering her belongings, she turned off the lights and walked out into the bullpen. "Don't stay at it all night," she called out to the team.

Stella looked up from her key board. "Night, Grace."

"Get some sleep," Spencer called, his concern for her evident in his eyes.

She made it as far as the third step.

"Where are you going?" Boyd called, appearing in his office doorway, the partition walls shaking with the movement.

"Home!" She held her hand up, daring him to challenge her.

"Fine." His office door slammed as he disappeared inside. It wasn't in his nature to just walk away from an argument and there were things he needed from her, not least to know she was still there. Tonight he couldn't ask her to stay, knowing that the question might not bring him a satisfactory answer.

Grace let out the breath she had been holding, and walked down the corridor towards her car, knowing it was going to take more than one glass of wine to relax her.

----------------------------------------------------------

"I think it's time we called maintenance," Spencer announced, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"I think it's time we called a marriage counsellor."

"Boyd doesn't get in touch with his feelings."

Stella glanced over her shoulder at the two closed office doors. "If he's like this now what's he going to be like if she walks?"

"If?" Eve scoffed. "More like when. Do you seriously think she is going to stick around when he treats her like this?"

The three of them were sitting in the outer office taking a lunch break and catching up on paperwork. The idea of a pub lunch had seemed like a good one until they considered inviting the rest of the team. As Spencer had pointed out if they took Grace and Boyd the tension would kill the relaxing break and they couldn't leave one behind. It seemed easier just to eat in the office.

"So do you think he cheated on her?" Stella asked, leaning forward conspiratorially.

"More likely he forgot to do something."

"Couldn't it just be a work disagreement?" Spencer asked, trying to dispel the gossip.

"He would have apologised."

"She would have screamed at him," Stella pointed out, her voice laced with disbelief.

"And I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have stayed pissed for two weeks."

"He did totally ignore her advice. . ." Spencer didn't know why he even tried to sway them when they were so convinced Grace and Boyd had been an item. If they had it didn't take a genius to realise they weren't any longer.

"And he's done that before."

"He overstepped the mark and jeopardized. . ."

"That's just Boyd," Spencer sighed, "She knows that."

Eve glanced over her shoulder at Grace's office. The door was firmly closed and the blinds down. "Knowing it and being willing to deal with it are two totally different things."


	9. Chapter 9

-1This is part nine of what will be fourteen chapters. Just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews so far and the emails. Hopefully I am still on the right track.

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: PG**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them. The original scene is taken from Double Bind and I take no credit for it. Just my take on where it fits into my universe.**

**Part Nine - The Tough Get Going**

When she had finally listened to her head and walked away from Boyd, Grace had expected it to be hard, knew that she'd be forced to watch him flirt, and listen to him question every idea she had. What she hadn't anticipated was losing total respect for him. With each new case he pushed her that little bit further away, challenged the fundamentals of everything she had learnt. She felt stifled by him and his righteousness, Calvin's words haunting her until the straw broke the camel's back.

"Can I talk to you?" she asked calmly, closing his door and catching the irritation in his features.

"What is it? My daily spanking?" Boyd asked wearily.

Grace closed her eyes briefly, slowly counting to ten, channelling her energies into not overreacting.

"I've been thinking more about the Mel thing."

Grace opened her eyes as he continued to repeat his theory on the locket, knowing it was an avoidance tactic, one that once would have worked. Today it wasn't what she needed to discuss and it had suddenly become important that once in a while he shut up and actually listen. As they continued to debate, her anger bubbled to the surface, and she knew any hope of a civilised discussion was fast disappearing. "You really think that, do you? Couldn't she have just been off, pursuing a good idea that she. . .oh no, sorry. You're the only person round here who has a good idea."

Boyd bristled. "Oh come on, get out of here. I have work to do," he shouted, gesturing as he gave in to his emotional side. As much as he loved her, Grace had the ability to bring out the worst in him and these days they were like two storms colliding.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" he asked innocently.

She had had enough of him. "Not listening. You treat everyone's opinion as though they don't matter, as if the people around you don't matter." As if I don't matter, she wanted to scream.

"What have I done to deserve this now?" he asked, wondering if they could ever work together and not get into a fight. "It's a little unfair."

"Huh. It's how you make people feel."

"Oh. People?" The general public? The team. I think you're talking about you and me. Isn't that right? You and me." All of his anger management had disappeared out the window, and there was no going back. If she thought he was going to back down because she was a little more than emotional these days then she really did need to change jobs. "Let me tell you something Dr Foley. You are a grown up. And a psychologist, so handle it." His eyes darkened as his words bit.

"Well that's just the point. I'm sick of handling it. It's exhausting," she snapped.

"I'll tell you what's exhausting. What's exhausting, what's completely . . . Debilitating. Is that you with your training and your learning and your books and everything, is that you never come up with anything. . . " he snapped, equally as adapt at pushing her buttons as she was his and her work was pretty much the one thing she would defend to the end.

"What?"

" . . . Concrete. Or real. You're all up here. Hocus Pocus. All Clairvoyant. You need a frigging crystal ball." Sometimes there comes a point where you practically leave your body and you can see and hear what's going on but you're no longer present. Boyd was beyond that point. He wasn't listening to anything she had to say and wasn't even conscious enough to realize just how many of her trigger points he was hitting or care. She was pushing him and he was letting her.

"You'd like me to be real, would you?"

"I'd like you to be real. What's stopping you?" Boyd challenged, his body stiffening as he become lost in the argument.

She had been real, she'd cared for him and tried to build something with him. She had given him more than she had anyone since her husband's death. It had fallen apart and the more time she spent around him when he was like this she wondered why it hurt so much. And it made her want to hurt him back and instead of holding back she said everything she had been bottling up, watching him react.

Grace took a small breath but decided to go for it. "You have totally failed to deal with your grief and your guilt. And you know I am not just talking about Mel."

He heard her, but couldn't believe that she would throw that at him, bring Joe into it but she had. It told him just how much he had hurt her by giving up on their friendship. Instead of retaliating he stared off, angry.

"It's making you ill. You're depressed, repressed and in denial. Everyone who comes into contact with you has to deal with that. That's why you're alone Boyd. You are isolated and unloved. How does that feel?"

He turned to stare at her, stony faced, using every modicum of self-restraint the could muster not to lash out.

The pain fleetingly turned her eyes dull, his lack of response, the sound of her candour hanging in the air all served to tell her she had gone to far, damaged the frailty of their relationship but she had to say it, had to try and make him see where he was heading. Now she had to leave. Getting up, without looking back, she headed back to her office to grab her purse and leave.

Stella and Spencer stared at her having heard too much of the conversation. Her apology to them and the abruptness of her departure left them wondering how much worse it could get.

Grace walked out of the building and into the fresh air, her lungs sucking in as much of it as she could. The cold hit her bringing a pink tinge to her cheeks but she barely felt it. Once upon a time she would have gone back and tried to make amends but if the last half an hour had convinced her of anything it was that they needed time apart. It felt good to be outside, she felt free and unconstrained and yet she didn't know what to do next. There was a half typed manuscript on her desk that needed editing, a pile of case files on the coffee table that needed filing and plenty of chores to keep her occupied but she couldn't face any of it. Rummaging through her purse, she pulled out her keys.

------------------------------------------------------


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm back from vacation and my muse has returned. I'm hoping to get this finished in the next few weeks as my psychology course is due to start and I'm going to run out of free time. **

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: PG**

**Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six to be safe**

**Summary: After the break up they reassess how they began and how they go on.**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them.**

**Part Ten - The Friday Night Club**

When Grace had returned to work after taking a few days break, although it was hardly a break with Stella calling every few hours and the fifteen hang ups on her answer phone, there had been a temporary thaw in her relationship with Boyd. She hadn't returned to the team because it was the right thing to do although she was still waiting for Boyd to tell her so, but because when it came down to it, she couldn't walk away from a case or from someone who needed her. He might not have been willing to admit it but the silence on her answer machine convinced her he was worth sticking by.

Boyd had tried to phone her, to make a non-apology and at least work through their issues but when it came down to it he didn't have a clue what to say and was too worried that she wouldn't come back to actually try and talk to her. The smile she gave him, the warmth in her eyes as she left the office after the Lenin interview was almost enough for him but a part of him was still scared she wouldn't come back.

That had been three weeks ago and things were slightly better. They were working together, talking about work but little else and although tense they were managing a healthy working atmosphere. It was different and she ventured less into his office than she had, they talked less of inconsequential things but they were friends. The introduction of a Mel connection into their latest case had threatened to destroy even that but Boyd was distracted. Another woman was in the picture and it had been clear for all to see that he was going down the path well travelled. It hurt, she had to admit, but this time it was down to her and the choices she made rather than his.

----------------------------------------------------

Boyd hovered just beyond her doorway, watching her at work as he had done a thousand times. Standing on the threshold staring in was a big step for him. Observing boundaries and respecting her was something he had been working on since she'd agreed to come back to work. It was harder than he had anticipated and he missed her in ways he couldn't explain.

Grace finally looked up and noticed him. "Hey."

"Hey." He took a step into her office.

"You need something?" she asked, her feelings carefully masked.

"Can I?" He indicated the door.

"Sure."

"I have a favour to ask."

Warily, Grace pushed her papers to one side and moved around the desk. "What do you need?"

Boyd hesitated. It was awkward under the circumstances but there was no-one else he could ask, no-one else who wouldn't take his request as a lack of faith in Spencer. "I'm going away for the weekend."

She smiled warmly. "That's nice."

"To New York." He waited, avoiding eye contact.

It hit her hard. Despite everything her feelings for him were as strong as ever, the line between love and hate a fine one as her daughter said and as she processed the information she honestly thought someone was pressing on her chest. "To see Sarah?" It came out as a croak, a question more than a statement.

He nodded.

"Well I guess it's not to water your plants." He needed a holiday she knew, he could do with something in his life that made him happy, although she thought that was her, she just couldn't believe he was running full on into another relationship.

"Spence is here. And the team. But I just wondered. . ."

"If I'd be around." Grace concentrated on controlling her breathing.

"You can lecture me, you know," Boyd offered with a smile, hoping that a little teasing would go a long way.

"You won't listen." She gave him a tender smile. "But if he needs me I'll be here."

"Thanks." There were so many things he could have said and maybe should have said but somehow he could never quite find the words when she was in the same room. He made his way towards the door before turning back briefly. "You'll be here?"

Grace nodded, knowing that he was expecting her to say always but this time she couldn't. It would be a lie. If anything the fact that he had moved on told her it was time she did the same. Of course knowing something and acting on it was something they were both damn useless at.

Boyd closed the office door, his smile fading. Instead of being excited about the trip he felt even more worried about Grace leaving. Of course it was his fault and it didn't take a genius to realise that three little words would have solved the problem weeks ago. Knowing it and saying it was something he seemed unable to do.

-------------------------------------------------------

"Men suck."

Grace allowed herself a small smile. "Very eloquent, Stella." She watched as the young woman took a lengthy sip of her beer.

It was Friday night and they were sat in a pub, indulging in dinner and more than a few drinks. The three women were relaxed and carefree, knowing that Boyd had flown out at lunchtime leaving Spence in charge. Stella had invited Spence along but he'd had plans of his own and for once the girls had taken as early mark, deciding to take a leaf out of the men's books and enjoy themselves.

"Well. There isn't exactly a bundle of evidence to disprove it," Eve commented dryly.

"Spencer is skirt chasing again," Stella announced seemingly randomly.

"I thought he was . . ." Grace started.

"She used the c-word."

"Ah."

"And look at the way Boyd treated you." Eve glanced nervously at Stella. "Oops, I said that out loud."

Stella nodded, stealing a glance at Grace.

"I'm drunk," Eve clarified what had been obvious for the last half hour or so.

"Oh?" Grace looked between them in surprise, her mind racing to the numerous questions she had.

"Yeah." There was a moment of awkwardness. "We didn't want to say anything because you clearly didn't want us to know." Stella gave her a reassuring smile.

"You all know?"

"In all fairness we had to tell Spencer, but then he's been a little focused the last three or four months." Eve shrugged nonchalantly.

"Oh?"

"I take it there's no going back?"

Grace shook her head, wondering whether the situation could get any worse. Working with Boyd and avoiding their issues was hard enough without doing it in front of an audience who knew everything. "He's a little involved right now with his American girlfriend."

Eve pulled a face. "God, she's a fast worker."

"When that fizzles out?" Stella asked, grinning, "because you know it will. I mean it's Boyd . . . She lives in New York. He's a workaholic. Ow," she moaned as Eve kicked her under the table. "And well rebounds are fun as a filler, but never work out long term."

"I think it's over, I think we can safely say he's over me." Grace acknowledged quietly while she inwardly screamed. The last thing she wanted to do was get into specifics and acceptance was one of the steps or at least that's what her daughter had told her. Needless to say she was beginning to regret confiding in her youngest offspring.

"His loss." Eve squeezed her hand gently, suddenly feeling uncomfortable about the intimacy of the conversation.

"Who gets the kids?" Stella asked, the alcohol going to her head and feeling the urge to lighten the conversation.

"I guess I do. I could never inflict Boyd on you all." Grace smiled genuinely at the idea of Boyd trying to deal with Stella as a child of a divorce.

"In that case, can I have another drink?" Stella begged, smiling sweetly.

Grace rolled her eyes and rummaged in her bag for her purse. Buying another round of drinks would at least ensure there would be no suggestions of taking her somewhere and cheering her up. That she couldn't handle.


	11. Chapter 11

**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: PG**

**Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six to be safe**

**Summary: After the break up they reassess how they began and how they go on.**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them.**

**Part Eleven - Moving On is Hard To Do**

There were weeks when the team would spend their days trolling through old cases hoping that new techniques or new witnesses would break them, or for the slightest hint that something had been missed. Spencer would spend his well appreciated long evenings clubbing and seducing his latest lady friend while Eve would lock herself away at the body farm. In the past Grace and Boyd would have enjoyed dinner and an early night with a good book.

The Summer had left little time to reflect on easier and happier times, or to ponder life without Boyd. They seemed to be dragged into one case after another as development after development sprung up over the borough and mummified bodies and bone fragments were discovered in old foundations. It had meant long hours, plenty of take out and supermarket sandwiches and a team with cabin fever. Dates for any of them were few and far between, Boyd's trips to the States diminishing as the long hot Summer drew to a close.

The latest case involved a string of rapes involving university students. Twenty years on it was hard to find reliable witnesses but plenty of unforthcoming victims. With a lack of evidence to go on it had been a hard two weeks for Spencer and Stella as they spent days down in records searching for similar cases, and for Eve as she reprocessed decaying DNA. Trying to track down a viable suspect with connections to three different universities had been difficult and Grace had worked long into the night producing a suspect profile. The break had come by accident with a unpaid parking ticket and as with dominos the evidence had come tumbling down, DNA on a cotton vest clinching it.

Boyd had been interviewing the middle aged man for over an hour, Stella present but at a distance. So far he had barely rattled the former Grounds Keeper which only provoked his own temper.

Another glint from his eyes and a one word answer and Grace knew Boyd was barely holding back. She saw his shoulders tense. "Boyd, back off," Grace ordered, her tone firm as she watched him lose control of the interview.

His response was to ignore her, too lost in his questioning to pay her any heed, instead rising to his feet, his palms firmly placed on the table as he leaned over the suspect.

Grace groaned, glancing up at Spencer in the hope he could do something..

"He's always had an interesting interview technique," he shrugged, not in the least bit phased by what he considered Grace's over-protectiveness..

"You lying sonofabitch," Boyd yelled, placing his body further into the suspect's personal space. "We have DNA to prove you raped the woman in the park, not to mention the parking tickets. You were in the park . . ."

"Go to hell." It was by far the most emotive response they had received so far.

"Touched a nerve. What was it? She refused a cup of coffee? Or maybe you weren't good enough for a psychology student. . ." Boyd started, his face only inches from the suspect's.

It happened so fast that they all remained rooted to the spot, Grace and Spencer separated by the glass, Stella not anticipating what was coming next. They all watched in slow motion even Boyd reacting a second too late.

Grace brought her hands to her face. "Shit." She rose to her feet peering through the glass as Boyd flew backwards.

Spencer was running in, his presence unnecessary as Stella threw the man to the floor, throwing her body on top of him and pulling back his arms a little too hard.

Boyd picked himself up off the floor and sank back into his seat, his hand covering his face. "Take him to the cells," Boyd barked, stunned.

Grace, on her feet and feeling redundant, watched as the suspect was dragged from the room. Assured that it was safe, the commotion dying down, she entered the interview room. "Boyd," she said gently, prising his hand from over his eye. "Let me take a look."

"I'm fine, he said, looking anything but.

"Yeah it looks fine." She gently touched the pink flesh, running her finger over the cut and along his cheek bone. "I don't think he liked you."

"I have that effect on some people."

"Really? You think maybe it was something you said?" she grinned, gently stroking his nose and his cheek bone. "I don't think anything is broken but a doctor should take a look at it." An image of her children falling off bikes and curbs came back to her and she had to fight the urge to kiss it better.

"Can't you apply some ice or something?" he cringed, bad memories of his last visit to the hospital coming back to him.

"It might take the sting out but his ring drew blood and his aim was pretty much spot on." She patted him on the shoulder and stretched until her back clicked back into place.

"Still."

Grace smiled down at him. "Come on, let's raid Eve's freezer." She waited for him to stand, unobtrusively checking that he wasn't unsteady or dizzy, before moving towards the door. "And you can tell me what you might have done differently."

"What? You're critiquing me now?" he grumbled, secretly pleased that she was teasing him again.

"Well, I do have a few pointers. . .," she smiled, distracting him from the pain she knew he must be feeling and the slight dent in his ego.

Boyd was having a bad day, he had the headache not to mention the excruciating pain in his cheek to prove it, and by morning he would have a black eye to confirm it. Swallowing two painkillers dry he crossed the room and lifted the blind, peering out across the hall at her office.

Grace was sitting at her desk, glasses perched on the end of her nose, papers strewn across her desk. He watched her for a second, memories flooding back of them sitting in her living room, working, before opening his door and crossing the short distance.

Grace looked up from re-assessing her profile to find him standing there. "Hi."

"Hi."

"How're you feeling?" she asked, her voice barely masking her feelings.

He touched his eye. "Bruised."

She pulled a face.

"So would you like to grab dinner?" he asked quickly, trying to sound as casual as possible. They'd been out for dinner before as friends and colleagues, and numerous times while they were dating but not since the break up. Part of him wanting to change that and make things less awkward but part of him wanting to remember what it was like in better times. "To say thank you for before."

"It was nothing."

"You need to eat. I need to eat."

Grace removed her glasses. "I can't. I have plans."

"Ok." He turned to leave, wondering if there it would ever be a time when it wasn't so strained between them.

"I really can't, Boyd." She gave him a tentative smile, suddenly regretting her last minute dinner plans. "Maybe another time."

"Sure." Boyd turned and took a step over the threshold.

She sucked in breath. "I have a date." There she had said it but it didn't make it feel any better.

"Ok." He tried to remember to breathe as walked back to his office, the realisation that he'd lost her making him heady. He'd screwed up, he'd hurt her and now he wasn't going to get a second chance. Of course it had taken him long enough to realise he loved her and dating another woman wasn't the most conventional way to deal with it but he knew he loved her now.

Grace watched him go, not feeling in the least bit smug or satisfied in his reaction. Fleetingly, she debated cancelling the date but she brushed it aside, choosing company rather than sitting home alone moping.

Boyd walked behind his desk and stared out of the window at the corridor, lost in his thoughts.

"Boss?"

He turned slowly. "Spence?"

"Our friend has been charged with assaulting a police officer so he's back in the cells. Do you need anything else?"

"To get drunk."

"Want me to come?" Spence asked casually. The last thing he wanted was Boyd going out alone and getting into trouble again.

"Yeah. Just don't keep count." He grabbed his coat and followed the younger man out of the office.


	12. Chapter 12

**Part Twelve**

Boyd had never had a day off sick. Although technically that wasn't true. In the line of duty he had been stabbed, shot at and involved in a minor car crash, all of which had resulted in him being forced to take a few days off. But he didn't get flu or any of the various sickness bugs that floated around the office and however hung over he was he couldn't bring himself to stay at home. Which is why, even though he legally was still too drunk to drive and his head felt like it was about to split in two, he had gotten Spence to drive him in.

He was in the process of drawing the blinds when he found himself standing at his window, staring out into the bullpen. Spencer was at the coffee machine making some new French coffee for all them, while Eve perched on the counter beside him trying to make him laugh. Grace had always accused him of being oblivious but even he had noticed the growing friendship between the two of them. It needed to be dealt with before it became an issue for the team but not with a hangover and not while the two women in the middle of the room held his attention. Their heads were close together and Stella was laughing as Grace gestured with her hands.

Grace had been singing to herself when she had walked in, which had immediately irked Boyd. As he said good morning and forced a smile she had smiled back. It was then that he had noticed she was wearing make up, highlighting her beautiful blue eyes, and a deep purple top that seemed moulded to her body, outlining her curves perfectly. For a moment he had allowed his eyes to wander from her face, fleetingly remembered the nights he had run his fingers over her bare skin. Grace had been giving him a strange look when his attention had returned to her face and embarrassed he had excused himself to his office.

Since then he had been sequestered in his office trying to work through his head ache. Giving up he had decided to lay down but he hadn't gotten further than the window. From the way Grace was animated in conversation, Boyd deduced that the date had gone well. He didn't like the idea one iota. In truth he hated the idea. The urge to find out the guys name and run a background check was almost overwhelming. It would also be the final thing he did before she quit, he knew. It was his fault and he deserved everything that happened because it didn't take a genius to realize he'd hurt her, except until the previous evening he hadn't realized how much.

"Spencer thought you might need this," Grace announced, walking into his room, her eyes narrowing as she studied him.

"Thanks." He had been so distracted by thoughts of her and her date that he hadn't noticed her leave Stella's side and he had missed his opportunity to look busy.

"He also suggested you might want these." She held out her hand, the two white tablets resting in her palm.

He pulled a face.

"I'm not going to lecture you Boyd. If you don't know better, then that's your problem," she said mock-sternly.

"So caring."

"I brought you pain killers." She stuck out her tongue. "Which is more than you deserve." She turned to leave, torn between concern for his well-being and her general annoyance with him.

"How was the date?" he asked casually, swallowing the pills and taking a lengthy sip of his coffee.

She kept her back to him. "It was good."

"Good." He swallowed more coffee.

"Boyd!" Grace hadn't meant to sound so impatient but if he was going to show an interest the least she expected was a genuine reaction.

"What? I'm glad that it was good." He threw his free hand up in frustration. Part of him was relieved the guy hadn't turned out to be a jerk or something worse, but the rest of him had hoped the date would be a disaster. Something tugged at the back of his mind, not yet ready to be acknowledged and he scrunched his face up in consternation as he tried to reach it.

"Are you ok?" she asked, turning slightly to look at him, frowning as she watched him contort in what she thought was pain. "Does it hurt?"

Boyd opened his eyes and faced her. "I'm fine. It's ok."

"Ok." She turned again to walk away, not completely satisfied yet deflated that the friend in him wasn't probing further. She wasn't entirely sure what she would say if he questioned her further but she wanted so badly for him, even subconsciously, to still love her.

"Are you going to see him again?" he asked, trying to sound casual, but his tone laced with jealousy.

Grace kept her back to him, a thousand retorts going through her head, instead she took a deep breath. "Yeah." She took a step, then another, towards her office, knowing without looking that he would be there staring after her, unable to comprehend that his reactions were construed by love.

Grace closed her office door, her exuberance suddenly disappearing. The date had gone well. David had been pleasant, attentive and completely open but she had no intention of seeing him again. It wasn't just that there wasn't a connection or that what she thought she was looking for wasn't what she wanted, it was more because she spent the whole evening wishing she was with Boyd. His face appeared in her mind at the least opportune moments, concern for him making it hard to give all of herself and all see had wanted to do was phone and see if he was ok. Grace had stopped herself because it would have brought her nothing but more loneliness and sadness. As much as she loved him, and probably would for her rest of her life, Boyd's continuing presence in her life wasn't good for her. Even if he was ever ready to acknowledge he loved her she didn't know if he would ever admit it. The best thing for both of them would be if she left.

Grace chuckled coldly to herself at the irony. Just as they were actually becoming friends again she was going to walk out. All she had to do was tell him.


	13. Chapter 13

This is the penultimate part and I still don't know how it will finish. I'm also looking for ideas for my next story, so if ther is anything anyone thinks might make a good story let me know.

**Part Thirteen**

It was late but the Cold Case Team were all still working, not so much because there was a lot to do but more so because they didn't want to face Boyd's wrath if they left early.

Grace had spent most of the day in her office, trying to clear the mountain of paperwork on her desk and waiting for the opportunity to approach Boyd. Seeing the day slip away, she left her office and walked to the coffee machine, pouring a cup and taking a sip as she scrupulously peered into Boyd's office. He was still sitting at his desk, head in his hands, a stance he had taken most of the day as he tried to stay his headache.

Grace briefly returned to her office, taking deep breaths and working on her nerve, before knocking on his door and walking in unannounced. Not saying a word, she settled herself on the couch, crossing her legs and waiting.

"This isn't a good time," he grumbled, knowing it was her and subconsciously that it wouldn't be good, his eyes not leaving his desk.

"I wasn't aware there were that many," she said without humour, continuing to stare at the top of his head.

"Very funny, Grace."

They sat in silence, listening to the cadence of the other's breathing, waiting each other out as they gauged the other's mood, neither ready to break into the relative calm before the storm.

"I've made a decision," she began finally, rubbing her hands down her thighs nervously. The longer they sat there the harder it would be to say the words she knew, she also suspected that was what he was counting on.

He glanced up sharply, premonition turning to shock. "I don't want to hear you say you're leaving."

"I'm not staying, Peter. I can't," she stated calmly and quietly.

"Fine," he replied, his tone rising from almost inaudible to shouting in a matter of seconds. "Why not?"

Grace sucked in breath, watching the range of emotions cross his face, his mouth opening as he searched for something to say, practically self destructing before her.

"I mean why stick around when the going gets tough. I mean I'm what? Repressed, depressed and unloved." He refused to look at her, masking his confusion, in his mind searching for someone to blame. They had been getting on better, their friendship almost back to where it had been before the relationship and now she was choosing to leave.

It was predictable that he would throw her comments back at her, even that he would fight to keep the team together even when it would eventually destroy the team. Silently, she rose to her feet and opened the door. "Spence. Stella. Go home."

"You're sending the team home now?" he snapped, rising to his feet like a petulant child.

She half expected him to stamp his feet. "If we're going to have this argument, we're not going to do it with the team sat around listening. And we're not going home until we have it," Grace explained, her voice measured and in control.

Spencer grabbed his jacket, picking up Stella's sweater and tossing it at her. "Come on, we'll grab Eve on the way."

"Shouldn't one of us stay and referee?"

He glanced towards the office where Grace was pacing up and down. "I think this is one fight where a knock out is inevitable."

"Oh, I get it. I'm seeing Sarah," Boyd yelled, his pupils dilating as he challenged her to tell him the truth, or at least a truth where he wouldn't be to blame.

Grace rolled her eyes, turning away from him, so he couldn't see the emotions clearly reflected in her eyes. "This has nothing to do with her and you, this is about your complete inability to deal with anything."

"With us, you mean."

She chose to ignore that comment because there was no longer an us.

"Grow up and act your age, Grace."

"Perhaps you should take your own advice," she retorted angrily, watching as Spencer hurried Stella along the corridor.

"You ended it, Grace." He took a deep breath, trying to manage his tone, trying not to let anger deflect them from what it was really all about.

"You gave me no choice." She dropped onto the nearest chair. "I don't know if you've been happy the last few months. We haven't been . . . But part of me is glad you've moved on." She didn't mention the part of her, the larger part, that hated him for moving on so quickly.

"But part of you thinks you should walk out the door and desert the unit." Part of you wants to desert me, he thought, silently wondering what had made him push her so far out of his reach that she wouldn't fight for him anymore.

Grace covered her face with her hands, wanting to scream. "I'm not deserting the unit. I can get you names of qualified psychologists, ones who you might even like. But I can't do this anymore." She would do it for the rest of her life if he said the three little words she desperately needed to hear but the rational part of her knew that wasn't a way to live.

Boyd moved around the desk and positioned himself on it. "Can't you forget it ever happened and we can start again?" Something tugged at the back of his mind and he almost had it. He couldn't let her go because it would be over and he. . . It disappeared again.

She gave him a small smile. "It's not that easy." Grace wasn't one of those girls. No one had taught her how to make a man love you again and in her experience forgetting and pretending never worked.

"So you're actually going to walk away this time?" Boyd asked, his tone defeated and betraying little of what was going through his mind.

"I'm hardly walking away. I'll work my notice, help you interview my replacement and by then it won't be so . . .," she trailed off not really sure what it wouldn't be.

"But you're leaving." The words swam around his mind. She was leaving and he wouldn't see her every day, he wouldn't see her again. It hit him hard and sharp and he felt like someone was taking a knife to his stomach.

"Actions speak louder than words, Peter." Grace gave him another small smile, not entirely sure why she had resulted to cliches instead of concrete answers, but knowing she had to leave. She rose to her feet and took a step towards the door. "My resignation will be on your desk first thing Monday morning."

"And if I refuse to accept it?" he asked, trying to reclaim control of the situation.

"That's really the Chief Constable's decision." He scoffed and she turned to glare at him. "What now?"

"You know for a profiler you suck at analysing yourself," Peter retorted, returning to the comfort of anger and recriminations.

Grace took on a protective stance, her arms wrapping around her body as she glared back at him.

"I mean you run, that's what you do." He rose steadily to his feet, trying to ignore the pain in his chest, the one he was sure had more to do with her departure than a heart attack.

"At least I don't distort reality."

Boyd chuckled coldly. "No, you avoid it."

"I avoid it?" she asked incredulously. "You're the one who does everything to suggest he cares and then blatantly acts like he doesn't. "

An awkward silence filled the room, the ghost of their relationship haunting them.

He couldn't look at her knowing that they were having the fight they should have had months before. A fight that maybe may have made them face reality, him face reality. Covering his face with his hands he sighed deeply. He'd been a little too convincing he concluded as he'd tried to push her away rather than admit he loved her. He stilled his hands at the realisation that he loved her.

"Look it doesn't matter," Grace said softly. "None of it matters now."

He shook his head. "No, Grace, really, then what's this been about?"

It was her turn to sigh. "This. . ." She waved her hands between them. "is about the fact Peter Boyd is impossible to be around. That you wear me out." Grace paused, wondering why she was suddenly so angry with him. Inflicting pain on him seemed like resorting to his ways and that wasn't her, except nothing else worked. "That I can't stand being around you every day." She slammed his door and walked into her office, grabbing her bag before she stormed out of the building.

Boyd covered his face with his hands, unable to watch her leave. The fight had barely drew blood but it had left them both in pain. He knew he should go after her because this time he knew what to say, but there was something he needed to do first. Picking up the phone he dialled an all too familiar number.

"Boss, got a minute."

Boyd returned the phone to it's cradle at the sound of the voice at the door. "Eve, I thought you'd gone home."

"I was on my way when I got the call. Some of the cash from the 1982 train robbery has turned up."

He searched his memory for the case, Grace and Sarah momentarily pushed aside. "How?" He was suddenly intrigued, or distracted or procrastinating, mainly doing whatever it was Boyd did when life was too distracting.

"Believe it or not, a world war two bomb shelter." Eve grinned inanely. "Wanna come and check it out?"

"Sure." He rose to his feet, grabbing his jacket.

"I can wait," she offered, indicating the phone.

Boyd shook his head, knowing that what he needed to do would take longer than a few minutes and his commitment to the job would only protract the situation.


	14. Chapter 14

-1**Title: Insane Commitment**

**Pairing: Boyd/Grace**

**Rating: PG**

**Spoilers: Up to and including Season Six to be safe**

**Summary: After the break up they reassess how they began and how they go on.**

**Disclaimers: Waking The Dead belongs to the BBC. I just take them out to play but always return them.**

**Part Fourteen**

It was raining, and had been since the early hours of the morning, the sky almost grey with the force of the torrent. It was a typical Autumn day, with the dark heavy clouds reflecting her mood.

Grace sat, curled up on the sofa, scanning the jobs section of the Guardian and drinking camomile tea. She was still annoyed and confused about her confrontation with Boyd, angry that he hadn't even picked up the phone to check on her.

Boyd had psychoanalysed her and when she had finally walked out she had been torn between anger and hurt. She hated the fact that while she had been analysing him all those years he was learning to read her too. He had determined that running had been her defence mechanism since her husband's death, protecting her from hurt, at least it had until she stopped running and fell in love with Boyd. Now it seemed the best thing to do to prevent him hurting her again. He also knew all her reaction points and how to use them, which thankfully he rarely resorted to. Last night had been more than a little revealing. It told her that he had been paying attention and a part of her now realised why he had built the walls around him that he had. It didn't dissipate the anger.

The knock at the door surprised her and she ignored it, not wanting to deal with canvassers. The continuous rapping annoyed her until she rose to her feet and she hurried to answer it, ready to yell at the idiot ruining her Saturday.

"Hi," he said when she opened the door.

"Hi." Grace instinctively smoothed down her lounge pants and checked her yoga top. They had been a gift from her daughter and although she had initially scoffed at them in truth she lived in them when she was at home alone.

"Are you still angry at me?" he asked, running his fingers through his wet hair.

"Apparently." Grace wrapped her arms around her body and refused to look away.

He sighed deeply. "Eve and I got called out on a case otherwise . . ."

She looked unimpressed at his excuses, glancing over his shoulder at the downpour.

"Can I come in?"

She stepped away from the door, not entirely sure why or what would happen and waited until he was inside before she closed the door.

"How angry?" He removed his coat, hanging it on a hook before he moved further down her hall way. Her eyes, he noted, were flickering between sapphire and cobalt blue as her face ran through a myriad of emotions.

"Sometimes you can be a real bastard."

He looked momentarily stunned at the force of her statement and the calmness with which she said it. "Other times you love me." It lacked certainty.

She took a sharp intake of breath, wishing she could deny it but knowing that lying was a pointless exercise.

"And right now you want me to kiss you." It was a brave move on his part but she had been the one to say it - actions spoke larger than words - and he was going to have to go out on a limb if he was going to fix things.

"Boyd."

"Which I'm not going to do."

"You're not?" she asked, curious as to what was happening.

"No."

She stared back at him, half inclined to throw him out or at least walk away.

"You're probably wondering why I didn't bring you flowers."

"Oh, you've come to apologise?" she half-asked, bemused that he might finally do something so out of character.

He looked slightly panicked as he followed her into the sitting room. His eyes were drawn to the open paper on the coffee table. "You're job hunting?"

Grace gave him a sad smile. "I'd go stir crazy otherwise." It was only speculative and she knew if she called her former employers one would probably offer her a job, but there was also something freeing about starting over.

"You could stay."

"Why? What's the point?" She threw her hands up in surrender. They were hashing up old ground and it was getting tedious.

"Is kissing you the only way I can get you to stay?" he grinned, the smile disappearing immediately.

"Boyd!"

"As I see it there are two separate issues we need to discuss." He settled himself on her couch and waited for her to look at him. "You staying on with the unit. Which is technically simple. You're the best at what you do. I want you, I need you, and the team deserves you. So we need to figure out a way to work together. Even if it means going to Christie and negotiating for you to consult or something. Ok." He smiled.

She nodded mutely, love for the job making it hard to dismiss the idea immediately.

"The more pressing and important issue is us." He took a deep breath. "Is the fact I don't want you to leave me. I need you. A few months too late, yes, but in all fairness I'm male and it took me a while longer to realise."

Grace waited him out, her face revealing nothing of her emotions. He was finally going to say it and she wasn't about to make it easy for him.

"And the reason there aren't any flowers is because they should be a gift not an apology." And the fact he didn't think a bunch of supermarket flowers would win him points. "And I'm not marriage material, so I'm not going to go down on one knee, but I do need to show you I mean it I realise that."

"Boyd."

"I called Sarah," he offered quietly, avoiding her eyes.

"And?" She didn't want to sound over enthusiastic but part of her wanted to jump up and down.

Boyd cleared his throat. "I told her I wouldn't be going over there again." In truth the conversation had started off badly and ended even worse but he had ended it.

"You don't like the Big Apple?"

He exhaled sharply. "I ended it with Sarah. I ended it because I love you, Grace. It was one of those slow burn things." He shrugged, the admittance a big one on his part.

She stared back at him, her heart beating a little faster in her chest as he finally said the three words she had been waiting to hear. "Oh, Boyd."

The ringing of his mobile broke into his thoughts. He reached across the bedside table, trying to locate the annoying ringing before it awoke his companion.

An arm reached over and picked up the phone, handing it to him.

"Boyd. . . Yeah, I was sleeping . . . Where? Ok, I'll be there in. . ." He pondered how long it would take him to get from her house to the crime scene. "Half an hour. . . Yes, Spence, half an hour. . . Well, get Eve to examine the body. Stella can run . . . Yeah, well just do it. . . I'll phone Grace, yes I'll do it." He hung up the phone. "We have fifty minutes. I detoured to pick you up."

"Just like that?" she asked, frustrated that work once again would get in the way of them.

He groaned. "What do you want from me? I admitted I was wrong. I know I screwed up and you know I'll screw up again. . ."

Grace opened her mouth to speak.

"I love you, but I also have this insane commitment to work."

"Words and sex, Boyd. . ."

"You weren't complaining earlier . . .," he checked himself before he said the wrong thing. "I have . . . I'm willing to make a commitment to you."

"Yeah, when there's not a case."

He growled something inaudible.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that."

"This is why you drive me insane, well one of them."

She pursed her lips, biting back a retort, then reconsidered. "I thought that earlier was why I drive you insane."

Boyd allowed himself a small smile, thoughts returning to the make up sex. "Grace, I lost Joe and the world literally shifted overnight. My son was gone, my marriage was floundering and I was to blame. Work became everything because I'd sacrificed everything for it. Women floated in and out and I didn't need to give up anything." He paused waiting for a comment. "I can't just stop overnight."

"I never asked you too."

"But I'm making the same mistake again with you." Boyd sat on the edge of the bed, staring at his feet. He wasn't sure how he felt, except that nothing he said seemed to be having as effect on her. He'd intended to tell her how he felt, promise to try harder and hope that would be enough for her. It wasn't and he was at a loss as to what to do next.

He looked up to find her staring down at him, her expression one of concern and what he thought was love.

"You're trying not to. You're trying to stop the cycle. Maybe if we work on it together we can be more successful." Grace leaned in and kissed him, foolishly and spontaneously, her hand lightly stroking his cheek. She loved him, that much she was sure of, but although his words held sincerity they weren't enough. She wasn't sure it ever would be but running wasn't going to work either. If they tried maybe they could do it.

Boyd reached for his phone flipping it open. "Spence, I'm going to be a while. . . Yeah, well I have faith you can manage." He watched as Grace picked up her robe and moved towards the door. She paused and turned towards him, her eyes searching for something.

"Look, Spence, at the moment I'm sat on a bed, watching the woman I love get undressed. I think for a little while at least you can handle it." It was stretching the truth but he was entitled to his dreams and he hoped Grace would reward him. "Yeah, well . . . You can stop right there. . . None of your business." He allowed himself a small smile. "Grace does know best." He returned the phone to the bedside table.

"It's going to be a long night?" she asked, watching him return the phone to the table.

"Yeah."

"Then we'd better get a move on."

He shook his head. "It can wait a little while."

"Yeah?"

"Long enough for a shower."

Grace allowed her lips to quirk up into a smile. "One each or were you suggesting . . ." Her words were lost as he crossed the room and kissed her, guiding her down the hallway to the bathroom.

The End


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